by Delia Latham
She had to see him, to know what kind of man possessed such a tender touch and spoke in a voice that sent tremors through her being…and yet prayed as if he believed Someone somewhere heard his quiet petitions.
Winter made a determined effort to raise her eyelids and was rewarded with relentless waves of nausea. But her eyelashes fluttered. Dim light burned her eyes, fresh agony pounded at her head, and she groaned.
“Shhh. Relax, sweetheart. Don’t try to move. Help is on the way.”
Sweetheart? Was this man someone important to her, someone to whom she mattered enough to be called by such an endearment?
“Miss Angie! What are you…?” The man’s voice trailed off.
Winter lay in darkness, wracked with pain and utterly confused. Still, a ripple of something unidentifiable made its way up her spine when he spoke again. Reverence and awe lent his pleasant baritone voice a whole new appeal.
“Sweet Father in Heaven, she really is an angel!”
2
Brady didn’t even breathe.
Across the clearing into which the small plane had crashed with terrifying force and noise, Miss Angie knelt at the feet of the unconscious man whose leg was bent at a disturbing angle. She slipped one hand beneath the injured extremity, laid the other atop it, and bowed her head. A golden-white light surrounded her, and Brady’s heart set up a racing rhythm when translucent wings, bright with the same ethereal glow, swayed in graceful waves behind her.
“Sweet Father in Heaven, she really is an angel!”
Miss Angie’s gentle voice and manner, paired with a tendency to quote scripture as if every word in the Good Book were etched in her memory, often drew teasing suggestions that she’d come to Cambria straight from Heaven. She also possessed a quiet wisdom that had benefitted more than one lodge guest and any number of parishioners at Cambria House of Praise.
But this…
Unable to look away, Brady watched, although his soul whispered his unworthiness to witness the scene unfolding before him.
Miss Angie closed her eyes, took hold of the twisted limb, and then slowly stood and backed away, pulling the injured man’s leg along with her. The same golden glow that surrounded the woman emanated from the leg she held in her hands.
An instant later, Brady blinked, and the young man’s limb lay straight and unharmed.
The glow faded as sirens approached.
Miss Angie raised her gaze to Brady’s, sent him one of her beautiful, trademark smiles, and placed a finger against her lips.
He managed a single, slow dip of his chin. No one would believe what he’d seen, even if he tried to share it. He wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
A groan from the young woman at his side drew his attention, and he glanced down, only to be sucker-punched by a pair of stunning gray-green eyes. Even the hazy cloud of pain in their depths failed to detract from their beauty. Framed by lush eyelashes—surprisingly dark, given the woman’s golden blonde hair—those eyes fell easily into the “unforgettable” category.
“What…happened?” Shaky and faint, her voice nevertheless spoke straight into Brady’s heart. “Am I…dead?”
He bent close so she could hear him over the shrill scream of the sirens. Based on the piercing volume, they were on the lodge grounds.
Miss Angie hurried toward the clamor. She’d guide the EMTs to the site.
He returned his attention to the bewildered woman. “Your plane crashed in the woods near Cambria, but you’re going to be OK. Try to relax. The ambulance just arrived.”
“My…plane?” Puzzlement shadowed her face for a second or two, and then her eyes—still glazed and confused—widened. She struggled to rise but couldn’t find the strength. “My brother! Where’s my brother?”
Brady heaved a sigh of relief and then administered a quick mental kick to the seat of his pants. Why should he be glad the man lying unconscious a few feet away wasn’t the woman’s boyfriend or husband? He had no reason to care one way or the other.
Besides, he should have figured it out on his own. The strong resemblance between the two passengers went beyond mere familial similarities. They had to be twins. But everything happened so fast after the puddle jumper crashed through the trees to land in a crumpled pile right where Miss Angie had said it would. His observational skills must’ve been wiped out in all the excitement.
“Your brother is unconscious, but he’s breathing easily.” He didn’t mention the deep, eight-inch laceration on the young man’s thigh, far too close to the femoral artery. Thank God they’d brought supplies to create a tourniquet! “Try to relax, OK? You’ll both be all right, but you had a pretty rough landing. We’ll get you to the hospital for an examination.”
“The…hospital?” She spoke as though she’d never heard the word before.
Brady sighed. He’d been worried about head injury from the moment he saw her lying there, crumpled and white, like a castaway doll. Now that flicker of concern blossomed into a fire of worry. “I’m sure the doctors will want to run some tests in case you have injuries we can’t see.”
“Oh.” She blinked…once, twice, and then again. “My head…it hurts so bad.”
“Well, it took a pretty good blow. It’s…” His heart clenched at the sight of her hair, matted with blood, and tangled around a laceration behind her left ear. Brady had applied a tourniquet above a cut on her upper arm, but that injury didn’t give him the same jolt of fear as the one on her head. “It’s not a huge cut, but I’m not surprised you have a headache.”
She pulled in a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if that bit of conversation had exhausted her.
Miss Angie re-entered the glade, trailed by a couple of EMTs carrying a stretcher.
Brady stepped away so they could take over, but after what seemed to be a cursory examination of the young woman, the female EMT—whose name badge read ‘Elyse’—joined her partner to work over her brother. They slid the stretcher beneath him and made their way toward the tree line.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes. Just keep her quiet until we return.” Elyse sent Brady a reassuring smile, and then they disappeared.
Miss Angie followed, explaining what little she knew about the crash—time of impact, what she and Brady had done for the victims, and whatever else the EMTs wanted to know.
Brady’s gaze returned to the wan beauty on the ground, and he sucked in a startled breath, unable to believe what he saw. First Miss Angie’s mesmerizing show and now this. He must be standing on holy ground, here in this glade tucked into the surrounding woods.
The girl lay with her eyes closed, but a male cardinal perched on her shoulder, his plumage a bright splash of red against her pale face. The bird bent his head close to her ear, opened an orange-red beak and emitted a soft, sweet song that ended in a quiet churr…churr.
Brady blinked. Surely he was dreaming. Maybe this entire experience was a dream. That glow around Miss Angie, her healing of the injured man’s twisted leg, the shushing gesture she’d made…and now this. Cardinals didn’t just make themselves at home with humans, did they? He’d never seen one behave in such a manner. The little creature seemed to be singing a song of comfort.
Did the woman hear it, or was she asleep?
Brady wanted to step closer, but awe froze him in place. He stood where he was, unable to tear his gaze from the scene.
The bird rested his bright head against the bleeding wound behind the woman’s ear. Churr…churr…churr. Whirring its way from somewhere deep within the bird’s red chest, the sound was barely audible. Brady heard it only because every nerve in his body, every cell and atom, zipped and zinged with wonder.
Had he gone stark, staring loony tunes, or…was he being treated to a glimpse of glory unlike anything he’d ever imagined?
He became aware of a deep hush in the glade. No birdsong or flutter of small wings. No whisper of the ocean breeze through the trees. No snapping of twigs beneath the feet of forest creatures. Nothing but silence.
Brady had forgotten to breathe, and his lungs felt near to bursting. He dragged in air and moved closer to the woman on the ground.
The gash above her ear—a gaping hole only moments ago—had disappeared. If not for the blood that still gummed her blonde hair, Brady would have thought he’d imagined the injury. Not even a bump remained from the blow to her head.
His gaze moved to her face and for a moment he forgot to breathe.
She was awake. Full lips curved upward in a tiny smile. She planted both elbows on the ground and tried to sit up. Her beautiful, gray-green gaze latched onto his, and she spoke in a reverent whisper. “Are you an angel?”
The man standing over Winter possessed the most gentle aura. The kindest eyes. The sweetest, most comforting overall demeanor. Ever.
Only seconds ago, she’d awakened in time to see what she thought was a cardinal taking off from somewhere close—really close. She’d most likely been dreaming, of course. But then she turned her head—encouraged when the movement no longer sent waves of nausea through her body—and saw the man.
He epitomized perfection. His looks, his eyes…everything about him. Combined with the odd semi-vision of something flying away on pretty wings, he put her in mind of angels. Or maybe…had there been another suggestion of angels while she lay here…wherever “here” was?
She hadn’t known she was smiling until a deep rumble of laughter made her smile even wider.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been mistaken for an angel before.”
“Then you’re not one—an angel, I mean?”
“Not even close.”
“Oh. Well, all you need are a couple of wings.”
“Interesting. I’ve never seen an angel—at least, not that I’m sure of. But I never even thought to imagine they might look like me.” His teasing smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and did something warm and wonderful to his voice. “I’m sorely disappointed.”
“Don’t be. It’s a good thing.” She squirmed. Where had all her strength gone? “Do you think you might help me off the ground?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
He pointed his chin at a point behind her. “I’m afraid these folks wouldn’t be too happy with me if I let you get up and walk around.”
A man and woman in EMT uniforms appeared at her side, an empty stretcher between them. An older lady with stunning white hair moved to stand beside the angel man.
The female EMT interrupted Winter’s curious intake of her surroundings. “OK, sweetie, just relax and let us do all the work.”
“What work?” Winter frowned. “You don’t plan on putting me on that thing, do you? I can walk.”
“Not until a doctor says so, you can’t.” The woman smiled and knelt beside her. “Before we load you up, let’s do a quick test.” She held up a couple of fingers. “How many fingers?”
“Eighteen.”
The woman rolled her eyes, but Winter caught the angel man’s amused grin, and the white-haired woman’s beautiful smile.
“Very funny. OK, I think we can skip the question-and-answer mumbo-jumbo. If you’re feeling up to being difficult, you’re probably all right.” A firm hand landed on Winter’s shoulder when she made as if to rise. “Which does not mean you can get up just yet. Come on, Mason, let’s get this one to the hospital before she makes us look bad.”
Before Winter knew what was happening, they’d scooped her up and deposited her on the stretcher. With no regard whatsoever to her outraged sputtering, they marched her to the tree line, through several yards of thicker woods, and then out into a wide opening, where an ambulance waited, lights flashing.
“It’ll be a tight squeeze with two of you in here, but we’ll make it work. A half hour’s ride in this thing, and then you can argue with the medical staff about taking a walk.”
Two? Who else?
They slid her into the back of the transport vehicle, and she turned her head to see the other occupant. A young man, so pale his skin seemed almost translucent, lay with his eyes closed.
Memory rushed back in an overwhelming wave of terror.
“Kai!”
3
Brady lay in bed, staring into the darkness.
He’d followed the ambulance to the hospital in San Luis Obispo after calming the young woman, who’d seemed within half an inch of total hysteria when she’d realized who else was in the ambulance. Yet she hadn’t gone all freaky earlier, in the glade, when she’d asked about her brother. Was it possible she’d been too disoriented from the crash at first? But the second mention of her sibling—whom Brady still felt certain was a twin—came about only moments later. She couldn’t have gained that much clarity of thought between the first inquiry and the second.
Could she?
He huffed, pounded his pillow and turned to face the wall. His mind was taking him into some pretty crazy territory, but he couldn’t seem to change its direction.
That cardinal had something to do with the young woman’s sudden improvement. Brady wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t delusional. There’d been an ugly, open gash above the girl’s ear before the bird wrapped its red wings around her head. And the wound was gone when it flew away.
“Oh, go to sleep,” he mumbled, grumpy for any number of reasons. Sleep might clear his mind. Maybe he’d wake up and realize he’d dreamed the whole cardinal episode—not to mention Miss Angie growing wings and taking on a supernatural glow. He might even convince himself she hadn’t healed the young pilot’s badly bent and broken leg while Brady watched.
Even as he drifted off, he didn’t really believe sleep would change a thing.
He was right. When he opened his eyes the next morning, the events of the previous day sprang to mind without a second’s pause. He jumped out of bed and into the shower, determined to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.
Thank God for Miss Angie, who’d scavenged the woman’s purse from the ruins of the plane and brought it with them to the hospital. Now Brady knew who to inquire about when he reached the medical center.
He looked in on Kai first, simply to prove to himself he could stay away from the man’s sister a few minutes longer, even knowing she was only a few rooms away. Disheveled and pale from the crash and her injuries, Kalani Wonder had taken a hold on Brady’s imagination. Without a single iota of effort—just showing him those unbelievable eyes with a color that listed somewhere between gray and green—she’d utterly captured his heart.
He chuckled as he entered Kai’s room. Talk about a sap. Brady’d provided counsel and insight to a number of young lovers, and some who weren’t but longed to be. He’d secretly found some of them amusing in their fervor. But never again. He was in the process of proving himself the most fervent, ridiculous, over-hopeful romanticist of them all.
A groggy voice greeted him. “Well, at least someone’s in a good mood. Tell me what’s funny, stranger in my hospital room. I could use something to laugh about.”
Brady’s head jerked up. Heat rose from somewhere below his neck and spread all the way to his hairline. No way on earth was he telling this man what he’d really been thinking.
“I’m sure you could.” He offered the young man a wide smile and his hand. “Yesterday couldn’t have been one of the best days of your life.”
Kai shook his head. “Not even close. But I’m alive, and more importantly—so is my sister.” His face blanched, and he closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, Brady bit back a gasp. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed the sibling
s shared the same unusual eye color. “True. It’s good that you’re seeing the positive side of things.” Brady pulled a chair closer to the bed. “How are you feeling today? Your leg…?”
Kai’s eyebrows drew together. He pulled his feet closer to his body, forcing both knees into the air, and then he lowered them again. “That’s just a scratch—doesn’t even hurt. My head, now…I thought it would explode like a ripe watermelon before they gave me something to make it bearable.”
Just a scratch? Brady had wrapped a tourniquet around that cut, and it was far more than a scratch. He chose to let it go. “What are they saying about that?”
“My head? Aw, it’s nothing. Just a mild concussion, which is weird, because I don’t have any kind of goose egg up there, big or small.”
“That is odd.” Brady’s heart beat faster, as an impossible—and highly improbable—explanation sprang to mind. “Any lacerations?”
“Not on my head.” Kai laughed and pointed a thumb at the obvious one on his left cheek. “There’s this, but the doctor doesn’t seem to think it would’ve caused a concussion. And my leg, but as I already said, it’s just a scratch. Not that I’ve seen it, but it can’t be too bad, since it doesn’t hurt even a little.” He grinned and widened his eyes. “Seems my sister and I crashed right into a mystery of sorts.”
“Sounds like it.” Brady tilted his head. “Have they let you see Kalani yet?”
“No, and I’m about ready to get up and find her myself.” He frowned. “I hope they’re being straight with me when they say she’s OK. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost her because I—” His voice roughened, and a wave of red rode into his pale face. He shot Brady a lopsided grin and hiked one eyebrow. “Besides, who told you her name is Kalani? I wouldn’t call her that to her face, if I were you. Who are you, anyway?”